The Clockwork Changeling

Hampshire was an hour away but was where Anthony and his friends had hung out on weekends. Sparsely surrounded by farms, the small town was the epitome of “laid back”. It had a pretty good pizza parlor but, more importantly, was lax on asking for I.D. when it came to beer. Still a year from being legal, that was important.

  “This is a pleasant hamlet,” Wiste said. His mask had been wound just before leaving the car and wouldn’t need attention for another fifty minutes. “You used to come here often?”

  “As a kid, yeah, and just about every weekend during the last two years of high school. Not since I left for college, though.”

  They walked along the main strip. The sidewalks, like the streets, were cracked but patched. It was a decently-maintained but comfortably-worn town. Passing the hardware store, they stepped in to “Slice O’ Life” for lunch. They sat down at one of the open tables and waited.

  “I checked every hiding place I used as a kid, from attic to basement. I even asked Mom and Dad about it, but I can’t find the locket anywhere.”

  “Maybe you had it with you; packed it somewhere you’ve forgotten?”

  “I doubt it. It was a relic of NeverEarth. If I’d had it around me, I’d have remembered.” He looked wistful. “When I was a kid, just as my memory was starting to fade, I’d take it out and just look at it. It wasn’t as good as being there but I’d remember you, Allasande, the King … even Moira and Jeremy. It was like a waking dream.”

  The waitress came by and smiled broadly. “Out for an early lunch, eh? Who’s your friend?”

  Anthony looked up. The woman appeared to be talking to him. He didn’t remember her from the old days but supposed she had probably waited on him before.

  “Oh, this is Wiste. He’s an old friend.”

  Thanks to the mask, the satyr had blond hair and blue eyes. The faux human nodded with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Addison isn’t with you, today?”

  “Uh, who?”

  She blushed and quickly smiled. “I’m sorry; I’m a bit scatter-brained today. My apologies. What’ll you boys have?”

  They ordered their food and waited while the waitress went back to the kitchen for their appetizers.

  “The thing is,” Anthony continued, “that locket’s important. Its magic was so strong it could even operate on Earth. But no one knew about it for except me.”

  Wiste nodded. Soon, they were served their bread sticks and a basket of fried mushrooms. Talk of the locket wove in and out of their reminiscences. Twenty minutes later, the waitress returned with their pizza—a Midwestern concoction of polish sausage and sauerkraut that Anthony had first eaten on a dare but later come to love—and brought their beer. Anthony explained about the ubiquitous food item and how everyone on Earth ate pizza at one time or another. Wiste nodded, excited by the delicacy.

  Unexpectedly, Wiste’s face grew fixed and still. Anthony was about to remind him to wind up the mask when he asked, “Uh, Anthony, you don’t happen to have a brother, do you? A twin brother?”

  “Uh, no; just a sister. Why?”

  He leaned forward and whispered, “Because, I think I found the locket.”

  It took a moment for the words to sink in.

  Anthony spun about but didn’t see anyone through the plate glass windows.

  “He just walked by,” Wiste said, pointing. “A moment ago; that way.”

  Tossing a wad of bills on the table, Anthony got up. Wiste followed and they ran to the street. A few pedestrians were in view but the otherwise flat and open expanse of Hampshire was empty.

  “He was walking this way,” Wiste said, taking the lead.

  Anthony followed but stopped a few feet later. He stared through the window of the adjacent hardware store. Inside, behind the counter and adjusting an orange work apron, was his exact duplicate.

  “Shit.”

  Wiste turned and followed Anthony’s gaze.

  The double was a perfect duplicate right down to hairstyle and body language. It was eerie.

  “That’s him,” he said. “The changeling. What’s he doing?” the satyr asked.

  “Let’s find out.” He watched for a moment more, set his jaw, and went in.

  The little bell over the door jingled as they stepped from summer heat into air conditioning. Rows and rows of tools, plumbing supplies, car parts, and every imaginable sort of connector filled the shelves. As he approached, Anthony saw the name tag on his duplicate’s apron. “Dell Roe”. He frowned.

  The duplicate looked up and, after a second, blushed.

  “Oh, uh, hi,” it said.

  Silence stretched between them for a long minute.

  “How … why—?” Anthony was at a loss.

  Wiste stepped in. “I take it you recognize your owner,” he said. “Why are you here?”

  The changeling’s expression was one of cautionary confusion. “Shouldn’t he have forgotten me?”

  “I remember just fine, thank you. What I don’t remember is taking you off my shelf and saying, ‘Go! Explore the world! Get a job!’”

  The changeling frowned. “Uh, and who’s this?”

  “Ah, forgive me,” Wiste said. He reached back and untied the black, silk ribbon hidden by the mask’s magic. Taking it off, his human appearance folded away into polished, white porcelain. “I’m Wiste.”

  “Ah,” he said simply. “I … I remember you.”

  “Look, what’s going on here? How long have you been in Hampshire … with my face?”

  The changeling frowned. “I suppose it was inevitable. NeverEarth is collecting all its old toys, is it?” He sighed. “Can’t have things like me walking around where I don’t belong.”

  “That’s not what I asked—”

  “I think you misunderstand,” Wiste interjected. “We didn’t know you were missing until recently.”

  The changeling hesitated. “You’re … not here to take me away?”

  “Yes; yes I am,” Anthony blurted. He was getting annoyed with Wiste’s casual conversation with this … this … household appliance from another world. “Do you know how much trouble you could get me in:  going around wearing my face like that?”

  “I’ve been careful,” it said. The clockwork sounded defensive. “And the few times people did seem to recognize me, I just gave them my new name.”

  “Name? You don’t have a name! You’re a machine:  magic and gears. You were given to me as a gift!”

  The changeling drew himself up slightly. It didn’t shout but its tone became firmer. “I do have a name,” it said, tapping its name tag. “It’s Dell Roe.” It smugly added, “My middle name’s ‘Ernie’.”

  Wiste got the reference to Anthony’s last name and laughed. “Dell E. Roe; that’s pretty clever, there.”

  Anthony looked incredulously at Wiste. “Will you stop getting along with it? It’s not a person:  it’s hardware running amok.”

  “Don’t look too amok to me,” Wiste said. He used a tone that Anthony hadn’t heard from the satyr in years:  calm but firm. It sounded like a reprimand.

  Anthony frowned. “I think we’d better be going,” he said. Turning back to the changeling he made a gesture. “Come on; we’re leaving.”

  “No.”

  Anthony blinked.  “Excuse me?”

  “I said, ‘no’,” the changeling repeated. “And I’m not an ‘it’; I’m a ‘he’. That’s my identity and I’m going to have to insist you recognize it.”

  “Like Hell,” Anthony said. The whole situation was spiraling into a crazy, surreal nightmare. His long-lost locket, the piece of arcane technology he’d once used so freely, was now talking back like a petulant child. “You were given to me! You’re supposed to do what I say!”

  The bell jangled as a customer came into the store. Anthony quickly turned his head, hiding his face. The customer wandered the aisles for a few minutes before bringing a handful of washers to the front. Wiste had replaced his mask and wound it.

  “Afternoon,” the woman said,
conversationally.

  “Good afternoon,” Wiste replied, pleasantly.

  “How you doing, Dell?” she asked the changeling.

  “Oh, about as expected I suppose” It rung up her sale, made a bit more chit-chat, and then waved as she left.

  Anthony waited until he was sure she was gone. Then, he whipped back around. “You … you don’t get this.” He waved his hand in an arc as if encompassing the whole world. “You’re not real; you’re an automaton … a tool; little more than a complex doll! You shouldn’t even be smart enough to do this on your own!”

  “Don’t patronize me.” Dell leaned against the counter. It crossed its arms. “It was a habit of mine to add a few turns of winding to my key just before being turned off. That way, if there was an emergency, I could still wake up and see what was going on. Plus, well, I wanted to look out for you.” The clockwork’s tone sounded hurt. “I first started sneaking out after sitting on your shelf, unused, for a few years. You’d forgotten me; forgotten NeverEarth.

  “I was careful to never get caught but I also knew that sitting in a box, forgotten in your closet, would drive me insane. Once you left for college, I just left. I went to our favorite hangout spot and, well, got a job.”

  “Perfectly understandable,” Wiste said with a nod.

  “But you can’t do that! People could recognize you—me—and...” He trailed off, unsure of what dire consequence to use as an example. The truth was if the changeling had been coming here for years, it had probably already been exposed to as many people as could possibly identify their face.

  “I can do that and I will,” the changeling said. “Look:  while you were gone you had me hang out with your friends, play the role of you at dinner with your family. No one noticed that you were off on one of your adventures and after you returned I told you everything that had happened. But after you stopped going, after you forgot, I was abandoned! I thought about going back, about knocking on your closet door and opening the way, but how could I?”

  Wiste put his hand on Anthony’s shoulder. “I think I understand.” He looked to the street outside; at the few passing pedestrians. “This world; it’s nothing like our home, is it? It’s vast and complicated and fast. You wanted to explore; to see it all.”

  Dell nodded. “And it sure beat being forgotten with no one to talk to.” The clockwork smiled. “Our parents used to come here, remember? Fourth of July fireworks in Hampshire aren’t as big as in Chicago but Mom and Dad thought—”

  Anthony’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to call them that.” His voice dripped with swiftly rising fury.

  “What?”

  “‘Mom and Dad’.  You don’t get to call my parents that. You’re a creation; a thing. You don’t get to call anyone ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’ because you don’t have parents. You weren’t born, you were made.” He kept his voice low but it vibrated with anger. “I don’t care how many people you’ve conned but I’m pretty certain you don’t have a social security card. If you vanish, no one will notice. So listen up:  you’re coming with me and going back to NeverEarth!”

  Dell crossed its arms, shaking its head. “No. I’m not. I’ve got a life here and, frankly, I’ve outgrown you.”

  Anthony reached out to grab Dell’s hand but the changeling jerked it back. He was about to vault the counter when Wiste grabbed Anthony’s wrist.

  “Tony!”

  “If you try to take me back, how will that look?” the clockwork asked. “I mimic flesh and blood pretty damn well. I may be gears and magic, but I’m just as real as you. When the police come—and they will come—what will they say? What will the world say? What will our parents say when they hear about this?”

  The questions hit like a bucket of ice water. Anthony honestly didn’t know what would happen. No case of “identity theft” had ever been like this. The creature might not be able to replicate his memories from the last few years of college, but it knew most things about his young life. If Dell was revealed as some sort of machine, there would be all sorts of attention drawn to Anthony and his family. It would be a madhouse.

  “Fine. I’ll leave,” he said. “But remember:  I’m not going to let this lie. I won’t have you wandering around the world with my face! You can’t steal someone’s appearance and just get away with it, capiche?”

  With that, he turned and, with Wiste following hesitantly, left the hardware store.